


when days turn dark as nights

by nd_mindoir



Series: postum [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But lost the machine, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, They won the war, and maybe themselves, post s5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nd_mindoir/pseuds/nd_mindoir
Summary: The team tries to figure out what to do with their lives now that both Samaritan and the Machine are gone.
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Series: postum [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816909
Kudos: 50





	when days turn dark as nights

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bunch of snippets set between when Samaritan was destroyed and the Machine came back online.

_without god all of our efforts turn to ashes and our sunrise into the darkest of nights_   
_~ Martin Luther King_

**day 1**

It's November 17th. The day that will mark a holiday. Shaw is not sure yet of the name they will choose but it is the beginning of a new world. Or rather, the restoration of an older, safer place. They will celebrate it for years to come. At least those who know. Five survivors of a war ninety-nine percent of humanity’s population didn't even hear about. A war that would've ended the world as they know it. It seemed impossible at times, way too often than Shaw liked to admit. She would never say this out loud, especially not to any of them, but she was ready to give up. She could write a book about it and call it _how to break a sociopath in nine months_. It is true, what they say. War doesn't leave winners and losers behind. Only broken people and death. Honestly, it’s a miracle they didn’t lose more.

She shakes her head and tries to ignore the missile that just blew up a relatively small house in the middle of New York City. She ignores the people around her who are starting to panic, thinking they just witnessed yet another terrorist attack, not knowing that it’s actually the end of an elaborate plan to enslave them all.

Voices crackle in her ear, reassuring her that they are okay. Or at least still alive, breathing. All of them. They made the impossible happen. They destroyed a god.

“Come on, big guy.”

She shifts her weight a bit and pulls Fusco more onto her shoulder. He's heavy and she's not the tallest of people but somehow she manages to drag him back into the subway station they left their god behind.

He only grunts in response, not able to say anything as his focus is set on not bleeding out in the middle of Manhattan. She doesn't scold him for being less than unhelpful. She understands, especially today.

She grabs around him and pats down his belt until her fingers find the badge and unclip it from the leather. She holds it up for the people blocking her way to see.

“NYPD! Move it!”

It takes a while, far longer than it should but eventually the mass of people moves aside. Apparently down here no one saw or heard anything about a building exploding. And a bleeding man doesn’t perturb hardened New Yorkers.

“That's color of office, you know.”

Shaw rolls her eyes as she drops him onto one of the plastic chairs. He's finally talking again and this is the first thing he decides to say.

“Next time I'll just leave your bleeding ass on the street.”

She starts up the subway’s engine once more and pulls the lever until it rolls in comfortable speed back towards their hide-out. The array of gaming consoles blink at her in flashes of blue and Shaw looks up at the single camera in the car.

“You still there?”

She waits a couple of seconds but no reply comes. No red light, no text on any screen, no sound. Nothing but silence.

“Seems like Skynet is gone.”

“Stupid thing sacrificed Herself for us,” Shaw shakes her head.

“No war is won without losses.”

“Now you get all philosophical on me?”

“What can I say. Dying brings out my inner poet.”

Shaw merely snorts as she puts on a pair of gloves and kneels down in front of him. She pulls up his shirt to reveal the wound on his stomach. It's a deep cut that will definitely leave a nasty scar but the bleeding has slowed down. She prods at it to feel for any internal damage.

“Ouch!”

“Quit it, you baby. I had paper cuts worse than this.”

She gives him some painkillers and tends to the wound the best she can with the first-aid kit they had stashed away in the car. Luckily the cut is relatively clean, only a few fibers of his torn shirt got stuck in the dried blood and muscle tissue. She stitches the wound up and puts a bandage on it. It would probably be better to bring him to a real doctor but for now this will have to do.

“Don’t move around too much,” she instructs. “Stitches are a bitch with that much fat.”

She ignores his scowl and takes off the latex gloves to flick them off into the corner before she plops down next to him, closes her eyes and waits for their destination.

“Hey Shaw.”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

She merely grunts in acknowledgement.

When they finally enter through the hole in the wall what feels like an eternity later the subway station is a mess. Bullet holes litter the bricks and debris lies everywhere. The computers and other tech equipment they left here have been ransacked or destroyed. Even Root's makeshift room is the product of chaos. Only the couple of laptops in Finch's little faraday cage have been left untouched.

Fusco fell asleep about five seconds after she was done with his injury and softly snores. She doesn’t particularly want to wake him up but he has to lie down properly and he’s too big for her to carry.

With a sigh she flicks at his nose and he sneezes and coughs. He fumbles for a bit, his hands searching for a gun that’s no longer on his belt until his eyes find Shaw’s empty stare.

“What? What is it?”

“You need to rest.”

“Seriously? Why do you wake me then?”

“In a _bed_ , Lionel. Take Root’s over there.”

“Cocoa Puffs lives in your secret hideout?”

Shaw never actually saw her sleep here. But she’s been filled in the bits and pieces of when they almost lost the Machine the first time around and Root wasn’t safe out on the streets. Shaw hasn’t set foot into the small room herself. In fact, she’s never been down here since she came back up until she decided to take the Machine for a spin earlier today.

“Just get up.”

He grumbles some more but eventually walks across the station and lies down on the bed. Not even five minutes later Shaw can hear his snores again.

She walks over to where she stashed away some of Finch’s whisky and settles down in a chair in front of the array of PlayStations. She raises the bottle in a toast.

“To the beginning of a new world.”

**day 2**

When Shaw wakes up she’s not alone anymore. It’s not Fusco, she can still hear him from across the hall. He probably wouldn’t sit down next to her and put his head on her shoulder anyway. Or lie to her feet and keep her warm with all his fuzzy hair. (The latter does paint an interesting picture though.)

No. Only two of her companions would dare do that. Bear is sprawled out across the floor on his back, all four limbs stretched to the sky and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he rests to her feet.

And Root is curled up on the plastic chair next to hers, wrapped tightly around Shaw’s right arm and head nestled into her neck. She looks a lot smaller like this, like a child almost. Caught in the world of dreams.

It surprises Shaw that she didn’t wake up when either of them entered the car. She must have been far more exhausted than she thought she was or her subconscious simply realized who the intruders were and deemed them safe enough not to wake her.

She’s not sure which thought is more frightening.

Still, she won’t move. She doesn’t mind this though she wouldn’t say it out loud. Root close to her, clinging to her like a safety net. It should feel suffocating but it doesn’t. She turns her head outside the window when she hears a clatter from somewhere inside the station. Finch searches something in the mess of destroyed technology.

Shaw carefully pries Root off and watches for a moment as she protests in her sleep before she simply curls her arms around herself and lies down on the seat Shaw occupied seconds ago. Bear stirs at the movement and gets to his feet, ears perked up.

“Bewaake,” she orders.

He drops his snout onto Root’s legs and earns himself a scratch on the head for a few seconds before Shaw leaves the two of them alone in the subway car and joins Finch outside.

“They’ve destroyed everything,” he sighs.

Shaw only nods and lets her gaze drift. Finch seems to have been at it for a while now, sifting through everything and creating two piles. She’s sure they are labeled _beyond all hope_ and _maybe with a lot of luck reparable_.

“Is it over?”

“It is too early to tell, I’m afraid.”

She nods again and looks back to the car, to the unresponsive AI and its precious interface she has yet to talk to.

“And the Machine?”

Finch doesn’t answer for a couple of seconds and when Shaw looks back at him she finds him staring at Root as well. Slowly, he moves his gaze to Shaw and shakes his head.

“The last time the Machine was gone Miss Groves was… Lost. Of course, we thought you were, too. Maybe this time… She will need us. You.”

Shaw’s fingers find their way to her ear on their own accord, brushing against smooth skin as memories flash past. Needles in her arm and guns in her grasp. Friends and enemies dying at her hands alike. Root watching her die again and again with tears in her eyes. She hears that pain wrecking scream, the only thing of the last year she knows has been real. When she slammed the elevator door shut and saved all their lives at the cost of her own. For nine months she wished they’d have killed her that day instead of putting her through the torture of watching them all die over and over. Of making her kill them. And herself.

“Miss Shaw?”

Her eyes snap up to meet his and her hand drops to her side, limp. It feels like there’s no energy left within her to keep this going. Trying to figure out if any of this is real or if she’ll wake up in a minute to Greer or Lambert smirking down at her. But if this is yet another simulation it’s the best so far.

“Her name is Root,” is all she eventually says.

She walks back to the subway car and looks down at her. She woke up but is still lying on the seats, utterly exhausted and lazily running her hand through Bear’s fur. Her eyes slowly travel up Shaw’s legs and torso until they find the face. But there’s no intend, no playfulness, nothing Shaw associates with the perky psycho, and the eyes drop back down. It’s Eeyore all over again but worse.

“It’s so quiet,” she whispers.

**day 3**

They’ve decided that the subway wasn’t safe for now. They’ll probably return later but not as long as they don’t know anything about Decima’s situation. Samaritan might be gone but that doesn’t mean its followers are as well. And since they learned of their secret lair it would be more than unwise to stay.

They repaired the giant hole in the wall, packed up what they could and burned the rest down. Literally. Root scrambled up the pieces of code she could find that belonged to the Machine, hoping she’ll be able to rebuild their god. Shaw doesn’t think so but for the first time in her life she can’t bring herself to be so blunt and say it out loud. Instead she wordlessly helped Root carry the cases of hard disk drives and four hundred gaming consoles to one of Finch’s safehouses.

“She deserves an upgrade.”

Shaw stills with the console in hand. She was just about to put it onto the shelf next to the others when Root spoke up from the doorway. She turns around and watches the other woman.

“What?”

“There is a new generation out. A lot more powerful than this one.”

Shaw just blinks at her, then at the console in her hand. Then she looks at the array already set up on the shelves. She placed almost all of them but has yet to set up the wiring. The cooling systems are the only technology already done, though turned off for now. (Shaw heard of the almost disastrous overheating and insisted on doing it right if they’re doing it at all. Root agreed with a huge smile and whispered _I knew you cared_.) It wouldn’t be too hard to put them all down again and replace them. Annoying, but manageable.

“We wouldn’t even have to steal them this time,” Root continues. “With Samaritan gone Harry has all the access to his money.”

She wants to say what she’s been thinking all along, that hoping they can rebuild the Machine will prove fruitless. That this time around She’s gone for good. She went up into space and destroyed Herself. She did what they were all ready but unable to do. She made the ultimate sacrifice to win a war.

“Sure,” is what she says instead.

Root smiles and Shaw feels warmth wash over her. It’s so foreign and comforting at the same time that she doesn’t know what to do with it. But she knows that she likes the smile, and if a bit of denial is what it takes to see it, then she’ll accept it. For now.

She turns to the consoles and puts them back into the crates.

“And you think this is wise?”

Finch is staring up at the shelf, now empty again. His tone is almost a whisper as he offers his concern. Root is in the kitchen, trying (and knowing her probably failing) to provide some food.

“I think this is dumb as shit.”

“Then why-”

“It’s what she needs,” she interrupts him.

“The Machine is gone, Miss Shaw.”

“I know.”

“Miss Groves-”

“Root,” she glares at him.

She hates this about him. Finch has many great qualities but his stubbornness and politeness are not always part of them. No matter how often Root practically begged him to call her by that name, he returns to the one she hates.

Finch looks at her. Not in understanding or acceptance but pity. Sometimes she wishes she could punch him. But she’d never hear the end of it from Reese.

“She needs to accept the truth.”

Shaw grinds her teeth. She agrees, she truly does. Every day Root acts like her god will return to them makes it worse once she finally accepts the truth. She doesn’t doubt that somehow in her crazy mind Root is all too aware of this. But denial can be beautiful even if hope hurts.

That is one thing Shaw knows just as well.

“You tell her then,” Shaw says. “I’m going to buy some PlayStations.”

**day 4**

The police station is the same chaos as always. People running around aimlessly, criminals proclaiming their innocence, and Fusco hidden behind a pile of files. Opposite of him Reese fidgets in his chair like a child with too much energy left to burn.

Bear gives a bark as he sees them and runs over to collect a couple of pats. Shaw follows him wordlessly and pulls up a chair to sit down next to the two of them.

“What’s your paper cut doing?”

“Itches like hell,” Fusco grumbles.

“Don’t you dare rip those stitches open, I’m not putting you back together.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What brings you to us, Shaw?”

She turns her head to Reese who’s still occupied with ruffling Bear’s fur but has his eyes now set on her. It’s the first time she’s seen him since they’ve destroyed Samaritan. She’s glad he’s okay.

“Or are you hiding from your girlfriend?”

Okay, maybe not that glad. She rolls her eyes, mumbles her opinion of that atrocious word at him and ignores him otherwise.

It’s the truth, though. She does hide from Root. The new consoles are said to arrive tomorrow and she’s basically locked herself in the makeshift server room of the safe house trying to put together the pieces of code. Shaw couldn’t stand the sight anymore. She doesn’t want to talk to her about this but she might just need to.

“What about you?” she asks instead.

Reese plain face shifts into slight confusion. “I work here.”

“No. John Riley worked here.”

“Wonderboy decided to give police work a real shot,” Fusco offers when Reese stays silent.

“Huh, didn’t think you like not being able to kneecap all the criminals.”

“It’s a thing to do,” he shrugs. “And with the Machine gone we can’t really help people before they are in danger. This way we can at least stop murderers from killing again.”

“And you get to keep _your_ girlfriend as well.”

She saw Iris walking through the precinct as she arrived, looking all distressed and absent, glancing towards this set of tables every now and then. Shaw wondered what all the nervousness was about and maybe she enjoys the slight awkward shifting Reese does in his chair a tad too much.

“He hasn’t talked to her yet,” Fusco offers once more.

“Thank you, Lionel,” Reese grits out.

“Why not? Red hair, long legs. She’s cute and all. A bit boring maybe but if you’re into that.”

“Cute is part of your vocabulary?”

Shaw flips Fusco off with a finger and decides to ignore him for the rest of her stay.

“We can’t all go for the crazy ones,” Reese says. “Some of us have to deal with normal.”

“I’d hardly call a psychiatrist normal.”

She won’t respond to the slight jab and certainly not deny any of the crazy part. They all know Root isn’t exactly what society calls a normal human being (not that any of them are.) There is no need to pretend otherwise.

“You have many experiences with psychiatrists?”

Shaw just glares at him. There is no chance in hell she’ll tell him about her actual experience with psychiatrists. That she was forced to go to one after Dad died. It wasn’t Maman who did that. No, that woman seemed to always know that Shaw was different from other kids and repeatedly told everyone there’s nothing wrong with her anyway. It was the dumb school who forced Maman to have her take Shaw to a psychiatrist. _Her readiness for violence and lack of remorse are rather frightening_ , they said. The second she was done with her mandatory sessions she never went again. They didn’t do shit anyway. Didn’t even diagnose her properly, she had to do that herself once she was in med-school.

“You know, Reese,” she begins instead. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned on my all-inclusive stay at Samaritan inn, it’s that life is too fucking short. Man up and talk to her.”

“That is disturbingly insightful of you.”

“Take it or leave it. It’s all the relationship advice you’re gonna get from me.”

“I’m just surprised you give some at all.”

“Whatever.”

Why does she even bother? She gets back to her feet, calls for Bear who immediately returns to her side and moves to leave.

“Shaw, if I may give you some advice as well?”

She doesn’t turn back to him but stops in her tracks, listening to what he’s about to say.

“Root cannot pretend the Machine will come back forever. She’ll need you once it hits her.”

Shaw doesn’t say anything or nod or even grunt in response. She merely walks away.

**day 5**

Shaw runs a towel across her face for what seems like the hundredth time today. Who’d have thought setting up a couple of consoles would be this exhausting? But the last few hours have resulted in success.

The metal shelves are filled to the brim with the newest generation of gaming consoles and are all connected via ethernet cables to each other and via power cables to their surely overloaded electric sockets. With no third rail to steal power from Finch’s electricity bill will shoot through the roof.

But it works. The consoles are happily humming and blinking and the coolers are radiating fresh air to keep the room in a temperature just below what normal people consider pleasant.

The entrance area of the large apartment is filled to the brim with the cardboard boxes of four-hundred consoles and the plastic wrappings of their wires. Only a small path connects this room with the door. It’s something to worry about tomorrow though. For now Shaw doesn’t care that nothing and no one can get through there without mountain climbing gear – short of Bear who happily jumps up and down the hills and destroys one box after the other.

In front of the new brain they prepared for their lost ASI Root has set up a desk with a couple of monitors and computers. She sits in a large office chair, not caring about the cool air that’s being blasted at her face, and codes something Shaw doesn’t even remotely understand.

Programming has never been her forte. She does know a few things about computers, all the stuff she picked up on her missions with Cole, but this is far beyond her understanding.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she announces.

Root makes an acknowledging sound and gives a slight nod but nothing that indicates she actually listened to her. And Shaw knows she didn’t. Usually Root would’ve jumped at those words, practically racing her to the bathroom and waiting for her, clothes already discarded. But her eyes are glued to the screen and her fingers move like they’re possessed.

“Root?”

There is no response. Shaw sighs with a shake of her head and walks towards the shower. Not even when she turns it on does Root follow. Or fifteen minutes later when Shaw is drying herself with a towel. And when she returns redressed in black slacks and a tank-top with her hair loose and wet clinging to her shoulders, Root hasn’t moved.

She shakes her head and grabs Bear’s leash. She might as well use the silence and take him on a walk.

**day 6**

Technically, Shaw is homeless. The apartment she had when she started working for Finch, the small loft in Brooklyn, she had to abandon once Samaritan came online.

The second apartment, an even smaller one-bedroom thing, belonged to Sameen Gray and has been lost the second her cover was blown.

Between then and her abduction she hid in the subway station. And once she returned she stayed at one of Finch’s safehouses. The one Root used most of the time as the other woman didn’t own an apartment either.

And ever since Samaritan is gone she somehow finds herself staying at the apartment they decided to build the brain for Machine 3.0. This is probably the main reason for Finch’s visit, she muses.

“I want to give you something,” he surprises her however and sits down at the table in the spacious living room. “You and Miss Groves both.”

She decides to give him (and herself) a break and not correct him on the use of Root’s name for once.

He hands her a folder. She scowls at him before she opens it and her eyes settle on a deed of ownership made out to the false identity of Sameen Gray.

“I had to use that name as it was the only one of yours with enough legal ties and not… dead. I could build you another identity if you’d prefer.”

“What is this, Finch?”

“The documents of this apartment. I’m giving it to you. And you won’t have to worry about any bills either. They are all taken care of.”

“No,” she holds out the folder for him to take.

It is one thing to get his money as payment and stay in one of his apartments as interim solution. Just giving her a place to live, one like this at that, huge and in the middle of Manhattan with the price of half a fortune is another thing entirely. But he waves her off.

“Miss Shaw, please. If it weren’t for us, for me, you would’ve never been in Samaritan’s clutches for nine months.”

“That’s right, because Hersh would’ve killed me far sooner.”

“Something which could only happen because I created the Machine in the first place.”

Oh no, she will not do this back and forth with him of who’s at fault here. It was her decision to join up with them and hunt down criminals. It was her decision to stay and fight when Samaritan came online. And it was her decision to stay on Team Machine when Greer offered her a job. None of this is any of their doing.

“Finch,” she starts but is interrupted immediately before she can protest more.

“Please.”

She sighs and drops the folder onto the table. She looks around the living room. It’s decorated sparsely for Finch’s usual standards and it makes her wonder if he planned to drop this bomb on her from the day he offered it as a place to store the Machine’s remains. Knowing him, he probably did.

“Very well.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

She narrows her eyes at him once more. This sounds too much like a goodbye for her tastes.

“What are you up to?”

He drops his gaze to his own hands and fumbles with his fingers for a bit, a small smile on his face. Not sad but hopeful.

“I’ve been fighting my demons for decades now. With the Machine gone… I think it is time to move on. I’m going to Italy.”

“Oh.”

She averts her eyes and stares into space. She understands that he leaves. There is nothing left for him but awful memories. Even their bunch of misfits is only a reminder of his, as he likes to put it, greatest crimes. Italy however has Grace. His chance for a normal life. One he deserves more than any of them.

“Well,” she clears her throat. “I’m sure Bear will miss you. And Reese and Root.”

“I have yet to tell them.”

She nods slowly. Reese will probably take it the hardest. Though Root won’t be happy about it either. Their relationship has always been quite complicated, with Finch being genuinely afraid of her at first. But over time they grew close as friends, especially with Shaw gone. Even she could see that. And she’d be lying if she said she wouldn’t rather have him stay.

“Finch, I,” she hesitates, not quite able to speak it out loud.

“I know, Miss Shaw.”

She nods curtly, grateful for his understanding. “Send a postcard sometime.”

“I will.”

**day 7**

Ever since Shaw returned from Samaritan and was found in the woods by Root, they made it a habit of sleeping together. Not as in sex (though that happened as well of course) but literally sleeping together. If not in the same bed, then at least in the same apartment. Shaw didn’t admit it in as many words but she knows Root understood she needed the reassurance of being _home_ whenever she woke up. And Root made it pretty clear that she wouldn’t allow Shaw anywhere ever again without her nearby.

So, just like in the past weeks, it doesn’t come as a surprise to wake up with Root next to her. They aren’t tangled up or anything. They’re barely touching. Only Root’s fingers are softly pressed against Shaw’s wrist as if checking for her pulse.

They’re sharing their space and that’s enough for both of them. In fact, it’s more than Shaw ever allowed before. Something which should frighten her but simply doesn’t. She’s long accepted that she wants this. Needs this, even.

She reaches out slowly and brushes her fingers against the scar behind Root’s ear. Usually she doesn’t do this. She always stays clear of her deaf side. Root never complains, even shortly after it happened all she did was joke about it. But Shaw sees the slight cringes she makes whenever someone talks to her or advances her from her right side. Especially now that the Machine is gone and cannot warn her or repeat the words spoken.

Root’s eyes slowly open to the touch and dark hazel meets deep brown. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t complain or brush the fingers off. She merely stares at Shaw. Utterly exhausted. Defeated. The reality of their situation slowly setting in. She worked all night on the code, grumbling and arguing with herself and didn’t come to bed until the sun rose again.

“You know you’re more than that, right?”

Shaw didn’t want to say anything, she wanted Root to keep hope and not fall into despair because she can’t stand it when she’s going all Eeyore on her. But she cannot look at her anymore, trying desperately to rebuild a god with the few pieces that are left. Pieces that will never be enough if Finch is to be believed.

“More than Her interface. You were more before Her.”

“Was I though?” Her voice is quiet, just barely strong enough not to break at the edges. “I was a hacker and a killer for hire. No great purpose or goal. Just a bunch of money and a long list of kills.”

Shaw can hardly argue that, having the memories of being tied to a chair and threatened with an iron on the forefront of her mind.

“You’re more now,” she tries as a different approach.

“I’m not. Not without Her.”

“Yes you are.”

She cups her neck now, thumb still stroking along the line of the scar. She smiles at her, a rare thing reserved only for Root. Talks like this is nothing she’s used to but for her she’s damn well willing to try.

“You are mine,” she whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> ask me anything on [tumblr](https://nd-mindoir.tumblr.com/)


End file.
